


In Your Face

by TottWriter



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Claustrophobia, M/M, Oisuga Week, Panic Attack, Trapped in a Small Space, can be viewed as either platonic or pre-slash really, post-canon college fic, sarcasm and snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9294095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TottWriter/pseuds/TottWriter
Summary: Written for OiSuga week day 6, for the "Trapped in a Small Space Together" trope.On the one hand, being on the same University team as Oikawa means he'll probably never get to set in a match. On the other, it means life is certainly going to be a lot more interesting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TFW you have to write something for a ship week even when you can't usually write ships for toffee. Honestly, this plot bunny just sort of marched up and demanded attention.

For Suga, the start of his first year at University in Tokyo was turning out to be a real mixed bag. Academically he could already tell it was going to be challenging, of course, and there was the additional stress which came from living away from his home and friends for the first time, but those could be _good_ things as well as bad. He liked schoolwork—it had always been quite therapeutic, sitting and studying—and he’d been looking forward to moving out and being more independent for a long, long time.  
  
And then there was volleyball. He’d joined his university’s team of course, to an enthusiastic welcome from the captain who was keen to have a former member of any team which had made it to nationals, even if his initial greeting _had_ been something along the lines of: “I don’t actually remember _you_ , but your hair is distinctive enough that it halfway looks familiar from watching Karasuno play I guess”.  
  
He was both delighted and surprised to see the familiar faces of both Kuroo and Yaku from Nekoma, and Konoha in the gym when he showed up for the first practice—and then frustrated and disappointed to spot none other than _Oikawa_ stood there too, chatting with another of the former Seijoh starters.  
  
It wasn’t _just_ the rivalry between their two High Schools that was the problem. It wasn’t even the decidedly less-than-favourable reports of his personality which he’d both heard from Kageyama, and gleaned during their matches. No, it was the fact that with Oikawa there, he could immediately wave goodbye to his chances of ever being a starting player on the team. Depending on what position some of the unfamiliar faces in the gym played, he might not even manage to be a reservist. Having played second string to Kageyama already, it felt a little bit like the gods were sat somewhere having a jolly good laugh at his expense.  
  
Still, there was nothing to be done about it all. He’d made his university choices for academic reasons rather than sports ones, and at least there were enough team members here that they’d be able to play in full-sized groups during training. It wasn’t the same as a real match, but it was better than only having six-a-side practises or training drills as they’d managed at Karasuno. And he’d gotten on well with everyone in Tokyo at the training camps, so it wasn’t as though he was in completely unfamiliar company.  
  
Yes, the trio stood laughing and joking off to one side were the ones he needed to focus on. He walked over, greeting them with a cheerful wave.  
  
“I hadn’t expected to see as many friendly faces,” he remarked, as Yaku clapped him on the back.  
  
Kuroo grinned. “Well, this year just shaped up to be more fun already,” he said. “With you here too, we’ve got the beginnings of a good team right here, and that’s not even counting everyone else.”  
  
Suga’s expression slipped a little. “Well…I probably won’t be setting in a match with you any time soon,” he said, glancing around. With perfect timing— _Of course_ , he thought dryly—Oikawa appeared to have spotted him, and was heading over at a brisk pace. He turned back to the trio and sighed. “Ah. Here he comes.”  
  
“Why, it’s Karasuno’s _Mr Refreshing!_ ” cried that familiar voice, _loudly_ , as a hand landed on his shoulder. Suga noted the amusement in Kuroo’s face at the greeting, and resigned himself to the fact that Oikawa had probably just given him the sole nickname he would possess for his entire time at university. “Tell me, how is dear Tobio-chan? Any injuries I should know about?”  
  
“You do know I’m duty-bound to inform Iwaizumi you just said that, right? Because _I_ recall a certain promise about not dwelling on all that,” said a dry voice off to one side. They all turned to stare at its owner; tall, with dark hair and a lazy expression on his face. He nodded towards them. “Matsukawa Issei,” he said by way of greeting. “I’ve been assigned the role of his keeper by a recently-reprieved mutual friend of ours.”  
  
Kuroo nodded, and introduced himself, Yaku, and Konoha, smiling disarmingly at Oikawa and Masukawa all the while. There was an awkward pause.  
  
Arms crossed, Kuroo glanced briefly at Suga and raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. His face lit with exaggerated recognition as he turned to Oikawa and said: “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. I know Suga must have mentioned you to us.” He unfolded his arms; waving a hand in Oikawa’s direction, clicking his fingers repeatedly, and wrinkling his forehead with concentration. He pressed a free hand to his temple. “You’re from… _Shiratorizawa_ , right?”  
  
Suga snorted, and then burst out laughing, even as Oikawa’s face twisted into an offended grimace. Yaku joined in a beat later with Konoha, and the moment Matsukawa realised what was going on he laughed hardest out of all of them. Kuroo just grinned, delight evident on his face as Oikawa spluttered a hurried introduction amid protests that he was being bullied.  
  
Perhaps the year was off to a better start than he’d first thought. 

 

* * *

 

Things did, in fact, go rather well for the first couple of weeks. After their memorable first training session, Oikawa had apparently elected to avoid any conversation with Suga where possible—which wasn’t especially difficult as their positions as setters meant that their interactions were more with everyone else than each other. The only times they were really near each other were during speeches from the coach, and the captain’s introductory speech, which had dragged out for a full twenty minutes as he gave them a blow-by-blow tour of the gym, including mention of the Forbidden Bleachers (the capital letters were almost audible), which they were not allowed to sit on lest they be cursed with bad luck; and the Very Important Sandbag, which kept the door to the storage cupboard in place seeing as their _previous_ captain had lost the keys, and must not be touched by anyone.  
  
On the whole, they didn’t really have much more to do with each other than they had before. In all honesty, life could have continued in that vein for rather a long time, had it not been for the unforeseen—but in hindsight rather inevitable—friendship which had blossomed between Kuroo and Matsukawa.  
  
Suga didn’t have any problems with Matsukawa. He didn’t especially have a problem with Oikawa _either_ , of course; it was just…awkward. Yes, that was it. Awkward because, well, Kageyama was a good (if horrifically socially awkward) person, and it really did seem a bit disloyal to his former teammate to seek out the one person who had a bitter and lasting rivalry with him just to…what, have a chat? It had only been a few months since nationals. He was still adjusting to being on the same team as his friends from Nekoma and Fukurodani, let alone former Seijoh players.  
  
Of course, seeing as he _was_ fairly good friends with Yaku, who was in turn good friends with Kuroo (who had, naturally, immediately befriended a good friend of Oikawa), it meant that when Yaku invited him out for drinks a few weeks later, he had a pretty good idea of the sort of evening he was letting himself in for. He elected not to get too drunk, even if it was only because he wanted to _remember_ the inevitable disaster the following morning.  
  
And boy, did it have the makings.  
  
He wasn’t _sober_ , that was for sure. Equally, as they returned to the campus housing, he wasn’t the one being held upright. No, he was the one doing the holding, because apparently, Oikawa’s many talents did not include a high tolerance for alcohol. Matsukawa was cackling merrily as they walked; the other half of Oikawa’s support network.  
  
“It’s just up here,” he said as they approached the building. “Hold this lump while I get the door.”  
  
Naturally, Oikawa’s room was on the third floor. Suga gritted his teeth as Matsukawa steered them towards the lift, but didn’t argue. They certainly weren’t going to get up there any other way, with a drunken Oikawa solemnly informing them that he _might_ have had a little bit of beer, but they really mustn’t tell anyone, because he’d promised, _promised_ Iwa-chan—and his mother, of course, but Iwa-chan was the main thing—promised them that he would be good, and nice, and not get drunk and do stupid things.  
  
The doors to the lift rolled across as Suga and Matsukawa’s eyes met across a sea of dishevelled brown hair, and their shared amusement was almost enough to hold off the sick feeling in Suga’s gut as they met in the centre, cutting off the world outside. He closed his eyes and held his breath, then opened one eye just enough to see the numbers marking where they were.  
  
First floor.  
  
Second floor.  
  
_Third_ floor.  
  
The doors swung open and Suga inhaled deeply as they staggered out into the hallway, wincing at the bright, harsh strip lighting. By the time they reached Oikawa’s door and Matsukawa had fished around to get the key, he was feeling more like his usual self again, albeit a usual self that was propping up a drunkard who had now started _singing_.  
  
“Has he…done this before?” he asked, as they staggered inside.  
  
Matsukawa led them over to a bed on one side of the room, and heaved Oikawa face first onto it. He groaned, and kicked his legs in the air, mumbling something which was entirely muffled by the bedcovers.  
  
“Once,” Matsukawa remarked calmly, turning him so that he lay on his side. “We all decided not to let him get drunk again after that, because if you think _this_ is bad, you haven’t seen him hungover yet.”  
  
“Mmmm, nuuh drunnnggg…” Oikawa muttered.  
  
Matsukawa pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna grab some blackmail and make sure he doesn’t puke all over his bed before heading back,” he said with a grin. “See you at practice, yeah?”  
  
Suga nodded, a little taken aback. “R-right,” he said, heading out of the door. “See you.” _Well, I guess that could have gone a lot worse. Maybe I’ve just been overthinking things this whole time._  
  
He walked back down the corridor shaking his head, and glanced once at the lift before heading over to the stairs with a shudder. Tired and tipsy as he was, _once_ was bad enough.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Oikawa had recovered from his hangover and was back to his usual, somewhat aggravating self. Scratch that: he was back to an _even more_ aggravating self, thanks to his irritation at Matsukawa for uploading the blackmail video of him lying on his bed, singing out of tune and then staring the camera straight on and saying what could just about be translated as: “You’d better not be making a sex tape right now because I am much too beautiful to share,” before immediately passing out. Matsukawa had helpfully added subtitles.  
  
The result of this ascent to viral stardom was an increasingly petty series of revenge attempts which, despite being conducted in such a way as to not interfere with the rest of practice, managed to garner more or less everyone’s attention. Had it involved anyone other than Oikawa, darling setter, Suga suspected they would have been asked to leave until they’d sorted themselves out. As it was, everyone just seemed to assume it was what you got for having “The Talent” around. Grudgingly, Suga did have to admit that they were at least still taking volleyball seriously, and kept their antics to immediately before or after training itself. But did Oikawa really have to be so…ostentatious?  
  
Suga made sure to arrive early at the next practice, hoping that if things were already going when the pair arrived, they might give it a rest. He sighed as he flicked the lights on. Six in the morning was too early for this, really. Still, he’d set up nets often enough in his life that at least he didn’t need to be fully awake to manage that, even if the campus storage cupboard was a lot more cluttered than Karasuno, and not really a lot larger, especially considering the size of the gym. Fortunately the nets were in easy reach, tucked behind the poles to hold them up and close to the door. He’d just knelt down to gather them up when he heard voices and bit back a groan. Of course _they_ would arrive early too.  
  
“…telling you, Mattsun, I’m not falling for another one of your tricks this time.”  
  
“Oikawa, _we walked here togethe_ r—I did not have time to set up a bunch of sticky goo or slime in the cupboard, and there’s no one waiting to leap out at you, okay?”  
  
Oikawa’s distinctive silhouette appeared in the doorway, blocking some of the light which came in through the perpetually-open door. Suga grinned. Well, surely no one could blame him for missing _this_ opportunity? He pressed himself against the rack on which the poles rested, and peered around, waiting for the perfect moment.  
  
Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. No sooner had Oikawa taken a step into the cupboard than Matsukawa shoved him in the side and slid the Very Important Sandbag out of the way. The open rectangle of light shrank and vanished. Oikawa squeaked with surprise and indignation. The door closed with a faint, damning click.  
  
The light bulb in the storage cupboard was a fairly low-wattage, but it was bright enough that he could see the look of fury on Oikawa’s face.  
  
“Oh _very funny_ Mattsun,” he squawked, turning and reaching for the handle. He rattled it to no effect. “Okay, you had your little joke, now stop holding it closed.”  
  
Suga felt his stomach knot as Oikawa rattled the handle again.  
  
“Mattsun! Let go so I can open the door!” Oikawa whined.  
  
“I’m not, you idiot,” came Matsukawa’s voice. “Stop playing around.”  
  
Half consciously, Suga hauled himself shakily to his feet. “Oh my—”  
  
He was interrupted by Oikawa’s shrill screech and winced, flinching backwards in surprise and landing on the folded nets with a thump.  
  
“Who’s that!” the other boy cried. “Mattsun! You locked me in a _HAUNTED CUPBOARD!_ Get me out right now!”  
  
“It’s just me!” Suga cried, scrambling up again. He grabbed onto the rack and stepped out into view, holding up his hands. “I…I got here early, so I was fetching the nets when you walked in.”  
  
After a moment’s blank staring, Oikawa’s expression brightened considerably. “Mr Refreshing? Oh, _good_ , Mattsun likes you. He’ll let us out now.” He turned and hammered on the door. “You hear that?” he called cheerfully. “Refreshing’s here, so open up now; come on and set us free so he can be an annoying little birdie again, and I guess you’ll just have to let me go too.”  
  
The door rattled. Suga swallowed heavily.  
  
“It won’t budge,” Matsukawa called. “Uhhh…I think it might have locked itself. Shit, I’m sorry about that.”  
  
“ _WHAT?_ ” Suga cried. He staggered over and grabbed the door handle. “No—no it _has_ to open!”  
  
“Mattsun, this time it’s _you_ buying ramen, okay?” Oikawa snapped, folding his arms and leaning on the door. “Or better yet milkbread—you’re gonna owe me a whole lot when we get out of here. Refreshing too. He gets whatever he wants, I guess.”  
  
Suga stepped back, willing himself calm. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was fine. Annoying, but fine. It was just a room, like any other room. He could move around. He could stand up. He could stretch out. There was a lot to see in a room like this. A lot of equipment. A lot of distractions from the fact he was locked in. _Trapped_. Stuck in a box with no windows, and now no way ou— _No_. That was not how to think. He could do this. It was fine. All fine. All they had to do was unlock the door and…Very Important Sandbag. Keys.  
  
Shit.  
  
The smile on his face was broad and false as Oikawa called for Mattsun to go get a damn key and unlock the stupid door. It lasted all of five seconds when a pair of brown eyes fixed upon him.  
  
“What’s _that_ look for?” Oikawa said, his voice sullen and petulant. “I still haven’t forgiven you for hiding back there you know.”  
  
“Uhh…you know there _is_ no key, right?” Suga said, his voice cracking slightly with hysteria. “On the first day. The tour.”  
  
Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Oh no…” He turned to stare at the door. “But…but…but _training_ starts soon, and we’re still locked in here with all of the things! They’ve got to have another key!”  
  
Suga smiled weakly again. “Yeah…training,” he said, trying to laugh. “They’re not gonna be too happy about this.” He focused on the stack of poles for the nets and started counting them, over and over.  
  
“You’re being weird, Refreshing,” Oikawa said flatly. “You should be _honoured_ , really. Not many people can say they’ve been shut in a cupboard with me.” He grinned. “Ooh, think of the _scandal_ , I’m sure my fan club will all be very jealous of you. We should take a selfie.”  
  
Suga blinked. “ _Fan club?_ ” He groaned. “Oh god, I’m shut in a cupboard and it’s with a narcissistic _ass_. Just kill me now and get it over with.”  
  
Yes. Focus on Oikawa. Focus on being annoyed and irritated, not the shadowy corners in the room, or the way…was it getting warmer? With the door closed, there wasn’t a draught any more. There was a flat, stale, plastic-y tang to the air. _It’s just the rubber from the balls_ , he told himself. _Nothing to worry about_.  
  
“ _Mean_ , Refreshing!” Oikawa said, folding his arms and pouting dramatically. “I always did think you were trouble, you know.” His expression softened. “Although Mattsun _did_ tell me you helped carry me home from that night out I suppose, so maybe you’re not so bad all the time.”  
  
“I’m honoured,” Suga replied, as dryly as he felt he could manage. He _really_ didn’t want to be making idle conversation. How long would it take for someone to get them out? He slid down the wall by the door and sat with his back to it, knees drawn up to his chest. There really was all too little space on the floor amid all the equipment. Empty, the room was probably quite large—but it _wasn’t_ empty, no. It was full of boxes and bags and shelves, all of which filled the walls and crowded the floor. The walls seemed to close in. The air was flat and stale. There was barely room for him to lie flat on the floor, and the room only felt smaller with Oikawa looming over him, chattering loudly about something which, to be perfectly honest, he had more or less tuned out. Something about the floor being dirty?  
  
A hand waved in front of his face. He forced himself to breathe deeply through his nose. This was fine, remember? With his eyes closed he might as well be sat out in the main part of the gym, surrounded by bright lights and that high, vaulted ceiling. Not stuck in…stuck in…oh god. He was trapped in a storage cupboard and the key was gone. How long until someone got them out? What if they _couldn’t_ get them out? What if—  
  
“ _HEY!_ ” came a shrill voice. “Don’t make me slap you, Refreshing.”  
  
Suga opened his eyes. Oikawa was crouched in front of him, frowning.  
  
“Don’t. Say. A word,” he said, forcing himself to speak past gritted teeth. How _humiliating_. He’d successfully hidden the phobia all the way through High School—hadn’t almost broken down altogether like this since _Elementary_ school.  
  
“Mm…no, I think I will keep talking, Refreshing,” Oikawa said, frown softening. “Lucky _you_ , you get to listen to me until Mattsun finds someone to undo the hinges.” He smiled confidently. “Because he will. He’s very good like that. And then we both get to shout at him a lot, and really that’s lots of fun too. So it’s all good, and you don’t need to worry, okay?”  
  
Suga closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Sendai Gymnasium_ , he thought. _I’m sat at the edge, and there’s all that space in front of me… “I’m not worried._ ”  
  
That was a lie, and Oikawa informed him so bluntly.  
  
“I’m not stupid, Refreshing. You’ve gone even paler than you normally are, and you’re shaking. It’s claustrophobia, right?”  
  
“I…”  
  
Oikawa huffed. “Thought so. Well, if it’s any comfort, Mattsun is going to feel just _awful_ about all of this. He’ll be putty in your capable hands for weeks.”  
  
“That’s…great,” Suga forced out. “I’m so glad.”  
  
“Well you should be,” Oikawa said, sitting down beside Suga and stretching his legs out with a wince. “You should be glad, thinking about all the nice things you can make him do for you, because that’s the stuff you have to focus on, okay? Good things. And it really won’t be long now, I’m sure of it.”  
  
The floor was cold, as was the wall. He could feel his back slowly going numb. Good things? What was good about being stuck in a sma—in a _place?_ His mind skittered over the acknowledgement. He had to stop thinking about it, he _knew_ that, but it was very hard not to when every time he opened his eyes he saw looming equipment, all so close, and the door was locked and there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn. He couldn’t get out, he was trapped, and the cycle of thoughts just kept looping, over and over and over until a hand grabbed his and squeezed so tightly that he thought bones might break.  
  
“Oi! Last chance before I slap you, Refreshing.” Oikawa snapped. There was a wobble in his voice that had no anger in it at all. “You have to keep breathing slowly, okay? We’ll do it together. Just breathe with me. In and out.”  
  
Suga drew a ragged breath for a count of four, and tried to exhale slowly instead of all at once. Gradually he settled into a pattern, following Oikawa’s surprisingly soft voice. There was nothing shrill or petulant about it any more.  
  
They kept going until there was a thump on the door and a surprised: “What the hell?” from someone on the other side. Oikawa got to his feet, smiling warily, and let go of Suga’s hand so that he could straighten up and hammer on the door, calling out:  
  
“Hey, we’re stuck in here, you need to get us out!”  
  
There was none of his usual singsong voice. That was odd. Suga closed his eyes again, letting his head fall back against the wall while Oikawa spoke to whoever it was outside. His heart raced in his chest so loudly that he could hear it pounding in his ears. Could everyone else hear it too?  
  
Oikawa’s hand gripped his again. “Refreshing. S-Suga. You’re breathing wrong again. Come on: in for four, okay? Oi. _Look_ at me. Open your eyes.”  
  
Suga opened them reflexively when Oikawa released his hand and grabbed his jaw instead. He stared across a surprisingly small gap to the other face.  
  
“Okay, closing your eyes isn’t working well for you, yeah? Every time, your breathing speeds up. So just…Look at me instead of where we are. I’m very attractive; lots of people want to look at me. You can manage.”  
  
The sheer audacity of it made him snort with mixed laughter and disbelief. Oikawa grinned and let go, grabbing his hand again.  
  
“There we go. Smiles are good. So I just have to take your mind off it all, yeah? I’ll be super distracting for you then. You’re going to laugh at all my jokes because I’m so witty, understand?”  
  
Suga managed to smile weakly as Oikawa ‘distracted’ him for…time. Time until there were more voices outside, and the sound of…was that a drill? The door rattled and shook. Once, twice—over and over until it shuddered nearby and fell away, letting in light and air and sound and space.  
  
Faces peered round but Oikawa waved them away and hauled Suga to his feet, appraising him quickly before dragging one arm over his shoulder and leading him straight out of the cupboard and across the gym to the exit. Suga felt his stomach lurch, and sped up as his feet remembered how to walk, focused on getting out and nothing else. He stood in the fresh air for a few seconds, eyes closed, as the breeze washed over him.  
  
“I’m gonna be sick,” he announced, and was.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t even question Oikawa accompanying him over to a bench, and sitting beside him as he got his breath back. Questioning it meant thinking about what had happened, and he wasn’t even remotely ready for that. Not until he’d drunk in more fresh air and sat out in the blessed open for a good while longer.  
  
Eventually, Oikawa cleared his throat. “Needles,” he said.  
  
Suga looked up and blinked at him. “Needles?”  
  
“My fear,” Oikawa replied. “When I injured my knee I needed…injections. I..er..fainted.”  
  
There was a short silence.  
  
“You know, you didn’t have to tell me that,” Suga said carefully. He frowned. “I’m not entirely sure why you _did_ tell me that, if I’m honest.”  
  
“Oh, well, you know. I just thought maybe we should make it a little even, seeing as I know what you’re scared of now. It’s no big deal. Although not a lot of people know that, so maybe don’t just go around telling everyone, or I’ll have to think up something to do in revenge, and honestly getting revenge isn’t something I think I enjoy all that much right now.”  
  
Suga raised an eyebrow. “No? That seems very unlike you.”  
  
“Well maybe you just don’t know me very well,” Oikawa said airily, shrugging. “I’ll have you know I’m full of surprises and hidden depths. Very mysterious. It keeps all my many fans so interested.”  
  
“You’re very good at that, I must say,” Suga remarked after a quiet moment. He took another deep breath, this time savouring the fresh air rather than _needing_ it.  
  
Oikawa frowned at him curiously. “I’m good at lots of things of course, but which one do you mean this time?”  
  
Suga grinned. In the wake of the storage cupboard, he had a far better read on all the preening and boasting. “Pretending that you don’t care about other people. But that’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Note on the panic attack: Is Oikawa handling it perfectly? Well no. Do I advocate grabbing people in the middle of a panic attack? ALSO NO. Please bear in mind that this is fiction, 'kay?


End file.
